


missing him was dark gray

by bizarrebird



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, Implied Relationships, RvB Fluff Week, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 20:16:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11260191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bizarrebird/pseuds/bizarrebird
Summary: There's an empty space where Wash should be. Caboose and Tucker can't fill it alone, but they can make do.Missing scene from In Screaming Color





	missing him was dark gray

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: OKAY CAN WE SEE CABOOSE PUTTING THOSE BEADS IN TUCKER'S HAIR IN THE SOULMATE AU BECAUSE THAT KILLED ME from secretlystephaniebrown
> 
> Alright fluff week here we go! This is set in the same au as In Screaming Color, though that's not super necessary to read for this one to make sense.

“Tucker, look!” 

Groaning, Tucker pushes himself up, blinking in the sudden light. He’s pretty sure no one’se ever taught Caboose about knocking before he bursts the fuck in on someone. At least he had just been sleeping and not in the middle of alone time. He’s been sleeping a lot lately. Training the rebels is exhausting, so hell, he’s earned it. 

And when he’s asleep there’s less time to wonder what they’re doing to Wash. To Donut. To Sarge. Except for when his dreams try to fill in the blanks. 

He squints a little as Caboose plops onto his bed without so much as an invitation. “Dude, the fuck do you want? Aren’t you supposed to be on  supply run? Did you get me the shit I asked for?”

“No, I forgot your list, but look what I did get!” He shoves a small plastic box into Tucker’s face. The bed is shaking a little with the way he’s bouncing on the spot. Whatever the hell he found, he’s sure excited about it. 

That might not be good for him. 

Taking the box, he rubs at his eyes. It doesn’t sound like anything is trying to claw its way out of there. He gives it a little shake. Sounds like there’s a lot of… little somethings rattling around in there. Huh. 

He sits up, shifting to put his back against the wall as he opens the box. His brow furrows. “Beads? Where the hell did you get these?”

“The supply run. There were lots of stores and no bad guys so we explored and I found a store with lots and lots of them. It took a while, but I got all the right ones,” he says, looking pretty proud of himself. 

Tucker frowns a little. The right ones? What does that mean? He gives them another look. There’s… not a lot of colors. Which is weird for Caboose. Back in Blood Gulch, he had specially requisitioned the biggest pack of brightly colored rainbow beads he could find once Tucker had agreed to let him mess with his hair again. 

It had taken quite a lot of convincing after the fire incident. He had mentioned the beads just off hand when he’d been complaining about cutting off the burnt ends and Caboose had just lit up. After that, it had sort of become a thing. A not quite nightly routine of Caboose carefully working an assortment of beads into his hair. 

Of course then, even with the ridiculous amount of colors to choose from, he had mostly stuck to the blue ones. 

But there’s… not actually any blue ones in there. Huh. It’s not until he’s got a small handful to get a better look at the colors that it clicks and something in his chest curls tight until it hurts. There’s four colors. Pink, red, gray, and yellow. 

Tucker’s voice sticks in his throat as he looks up at Caboose. Suddenly, he looks a little sheepish, ducking his head, curls flopping down to hide his eyes. “I know they are not blue, but… I thought they would be nice. I think Donut and Wash and the sergeant would not mind you using their colors.”

It takes him a minute to swallow the lump in his throat before he nods. “Yeah… yeah I bet they’d be cool with it.”

He grabs Caboose’s hand and carefully drops the beads into his much larger palm. Shifting the box closer to him, Tucker turns away, pulling his hair free of the loose bun he’d forced it into earlier. “Go ahead, just try not to pull too much, dude.”

“I will be very gentle,” Caboose says earnestly. 

It’s always relaxing to have someone mess with his hair. Caboose’s big, clumsy fingers are surprisingly nimble when they want to be. He carefully works through Tucker’s dreads, Tucker can even feel him carefully tightening up a few locs here and there like he’d shown him ages ago. When he wants to, Caboose can remember things pretty damn well. 

“What colors would you like?”

Tucker’s teeth go to his lip and he shrugs. “I dunno, maybe… maybe Wash’s? I can braid some of Donut’s in yours later.”

“That would be very nice.”

Caboose hums to himself, apparently not feeling the slightly heavy silence as it settles around them. Or maybe he does. “You miss Washington, don’t you?”

That lump’s in his throat again and he shrugs. Because he doesn’t want to miss Wash’s stupid self-sacrificing ass and his fucking drill sergeant orders and all the rest of it. But his hand absently goes to the collar of his shirt, knowing there’s that too gray mark hidden just beneath it. 

“I sure as hell don’t miss him telling me to drop and give him a million,” he says, snorting. “Or his stupid pacing at three in the morning all the time. Oh, or how he’d never stop giving me crap about the one time I forgot to brush my teeth. Or--”

“Yeah, I miss him too.” 

That shuts him up way too easily. Something in Tucker’s chest aches and his eyes burn, so he forces them shut. This is stupid. He can’t get worked up over this. It’s going to be fine. Wash is fine, they’re all fine. They just have to find them. 

Caboose’s hand stills in his hair, the other landing on his shoulder and squeezing. “When we rescue them, we are going to make the best blanket fort ever.”

Tucker reaches up and pats Caboose’s hand. “Of all time.”

They keep talking, the pain in his chest easing a little. Caboose apparently has about a million things planned for when they get Wash and the others back. He’s got a whole tour of the rebel base planned, though Tucker tries to talk him out of some parts. (“Dude, they’re not gonna want to see Andersmith’s stamp collection, no one wants to see that.”)

Eventually, Caboose decides he’s done and scoots off Tucker’s bed to sit on the floor. He’s so fucking tall, it’s the only way Tucker can get at his hair. “This is so fucking tangled, hang on, I’ve gotta comb it out first. Have you not been brushing it again?”

“I forgot. Agent Washington has not been reminding me and I have not added that to Andersmith’s schedule yet.” 

Tucker freezes where he’s got one hand in the box he’s been using as a nightstand. Fishing out his comb, he lets out a breath. “Don’t bother, I’ll put it on mine. Smith won’t do it right. I’ve got it.”

“If you say so.” But there’s a hint of cheer in Caboose’s voice that wasn’t there before. He mostly sits still as Tucker carefully works the knots out of his hair. 

“It’s getting real long again,” he notes, catching a few strands between his fingers, letting them slowly fall back where they curl halfway to Caboose’s shoulders. “You should let me cut it soon.”

“I am waiting for Donut. He cuts it best.” Well, Tucker can’t really argue with that. For a moment, he almost says they have no idea when that’s going to be. That they don’t even know if Donut’s going to be up for that when they get him back. If--

No. No he’s putting the brakes on that hard, so he just nods. “Yeah, okay.”

Once he gets the tangles out, he starts carefully working a few little braids into Caboose’s hair, threading a few pink beads in here and there. “Can you save some?” Caboose asks when he’s been at it for a few minutes. “I think Grif and Simmons would probably like a few beads too.”

Tucker’s pretty sure neither of them would be caught dead with pink and red beads in their hair, though Grif’s is definitely long enough for it. But he doesn’t disagree. “Sure. There’s gonna be plenty left though, you got a fuck ton, dude.”

“I had to make sure there were enough for everyone, Tucker,” he says, faintly shaking his head as he scoffs a little. “Sharing is very important, everyone knows that.”

He can’t stop himself from laughing as he nods. “Okay, yeah, good point. Alright, think that’s pretty good unless you want more.”

Caboose reaches up and feels at his head. After a moment, he nods and stands, collecting the box of beads. “This is good. Thank you, Tucker, I will try to keep them nice until we find the others.”

“Uh huh, sure.” Knowing Caboose, he’s going to have to redo the braids daily, but… it’s not the worst way to kill an hour or two. Tucker throws an arm over his eyes as he flops back on the bed. He’s vaguely aware of Caboose babbling something about going to see Grif and Simmons at him as a large hand pats his knee. 

The door to his room opens and closes as Tucker’s hand idly drifts to his own hair. Fingers running over the beads, he shuts his eyes tightly. It’s not enough, and really… it shouldn’t mean shit, but the yellow and gray are so, so like Wash’s colors. Like part of him is still there. 

It’s not enough, but it’ll hold him over until Wash is back. It’s only a matter of time. 


End file.
